She Calls Me Superwoman
by MiladyGirl
Summary: An awkward first meeting.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N**

I've been analysing myself and I've come to realise that the reason I like Blake is probably that I identify with her. Well, I'm very clearly geeky and uncomfortable around people, but I saw the first episode with her again this evening and it struck me that I could have done the exact same thing; crack a joke and end up sounding like a condescending bitch. So, cut her some slack. She's new, she's not very smooth, and she's replacing someone dearly loved. There will probably be a part 2 coming.

* * *

I know they're talking about me.

It's quite obvious from how they discreetly try to shut the curvy blonde up as soon as I enter the room. An unpleasant feeling grows in the pit of my stomach; I thought this time things would be different. They are no doubt discussing how badly I screwed up that high profile case all those years ago, and if I tell them it was Erin's fault I'll only come across as whiny and unwilling to take on responsibility. _Childish_. Either that, or they'll pity me; poor Alex was too young and too inexperienced to handle such a big case and we can't blame her for making mistakes. I've heard both. Neither is better than the other. I feel like I'm constantly getting trapped between a rock and a hard place.

I briefly ponder making a run for it, duck back to the bathroom and stay there for a few minutes. Perhaps grabbing a tissue and wipe at my eyes, as they are beginning to feel suspiciously watery. But before I can decide whether or not it's a good idea to run and hide, I make eye contact with Derek Morgan, and I'm out of a choice. I blink away the wetness in my eyes - it's not like I'm crying because people talk about me behind my back; Christ, I'm a grown woman, not some middle school girl desperate for the people at her new school to like her. And that wasn't _tears _per say. Dry air always bothers my eyes, no news flash there.

I walk up to them, in a deliberately slow pace to ensure that I won't have to actually hear what they're saying, and the woman with her back to me freezes. I catch the last thing she says before the other agents' body language shuts her up;

"…but is she _nice_?!"

Am I? I'm not particularly sociable and I prefer to process things internally rather than talking a lot. I don't laugh much and I don't like to touch people or being touched. I have little patience for small talk because it seems pointless to me. I'm not comfortable sharing my personal space or personal feelings. I'm not even very fond of pets or children. So no, I'm probably not thought to be a nice girl. But that doesn't mean I can't at least try. And so I make the decision to light up the tense situation with a joke.

"The origin of 'nice' is 12th century Middle English meaning foolish or stupid, I hope you're referring to the modern use of the adjective."

The last word just rolls off my lips when I realise that she looks… _terrified_. Wow, so much for relieving tension. I may have the linguistic skills but I've never been particularly good at reading social situations, and I clearly made things worse. The other agents exchange amused and slightly uncomfortable glances but the poor woman before me seems completely deflated. I wonder if I should apologise - I probably should, given the looks I'm receiving, but I'm not entirely sure for what - and instead I move on from the awkward moment as fast as I can, not missing a beat;

"You must be Penelope. I'm Alex Blake."

"Nice to meet you," she replies automatically, and I see how she winces when she hears herself saying the very word I just ruined for her. She begins to stutter and then Derek Morgan takes charge by introducing himself, taking my focus from Penelope Garcia. It's a gentlemanly gesture that I appreciate but could never mimic myself, not without planning ahead. Far ahead.

I know they all miss their friend, and I never expected it to be easy to be the new girl in such a tight-knit team… but I'm afraid I just ruined my chances to be accepted. Well. I am here for the job and not to make coffee break friends or after work drinking buddies, right? That's what I firmly tell myself anyway, but there's a sense of loss slamming me in the chest, and I'm surprised to realise how much I thought it would be different this time. This time, as opposed to my latest job, or my first job… or _any _job in between, to be brutally honest.

"Blake? You alright?"

I blink.

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine."

The rest of the team begin to clear the room, and I glance at Penelope Garcia, offering a quick smile, but no apology or explanation. I don't need to explain to everyone within earshot that I'm socially awkward. They'll find _that _out eventually, no matter how hard I try to pretend I'm someone I'm not.

And to top it off, Erin - the person I least of all want to see right now - wants to speak with me. What she has to say sounds to me like she's only trying to justify her own actions, but what she did really _hurt_. She caused me so much damage that for some time, I wasn't sure if I even wanted to stay alive. She makes it sound like she apologises for misplacing a case file for two hours. That was my _life _she misplaced, and it took far longer than two hours to find it and get it back on track again. The stains will never fully go away.

And she says it was _never her intent_.

I see before my inner eye how I raise my hand and slap her hard across the face. The image is so vivid I can even see a tear smear her makeup in the corner of her right eye. I can see my handprint in shades of blush on her pale cheek. My hand twitches, as if wanting to carry out the action in reality. I bite my tongue hard.

"I've got a plane to catch, Erin."

It's not until I walk away that I realise that in some ways, I did the same thing to Garcia just now. It wasn't my intent… but it obviously hurt. I sigh. I'll have to talk to her one on one as soon as we get back.

And I'm afraid to. Because while people may call me Superwoman or the Cunning Linguist, I'm really just Alex who doesn't know how to speak _with_ people, only _to_ them.


	2. Chapter 2

"Come on baby girl, cut her some slack. What did Blake ever do to you?"

I stop mid-step, closing my mouth so quickly I nearly bite my tongue off. I listen to one end of a phone call I wasn't meant to hear, and my heart sinks.

"Oh Penelope, _Superwoman_, really? I agree that she's a bit standoffish, but…"

Superwoman? So they honestly believe that's what I'm trying to be? I can't get things right no matter what I do; when I try to hide the dent in my armour people take me for aloof, and when I show it they take me for weak. I may never be fully accepted in this team - either. Perhaps I should go back to teaching fulltime at the university. After all, languages don't misunderstand. They can be _misunderstood_, most certainly, but they cannot misunderstand. And I can handle teaching. What I cannot seem to handle is being, well… nice.

But I fought so hard to get here, and I cannot possibly imagine myself telling James with feigned indifference that "Oh, by the way, I have decided to quit. It wasn't at all what I had expected." A decade of hard work, and I butt out after a week because I have managed to make an awful first impression.

"Don't be an idiot, Alex," I mutter under my breath. "What kind of a Superwoman does that?" I think that might make me smile, but it doesn't. Well, look at that, I can't even foresee my own behaviour. What on Earth am I doing in this line of work again?

I clear my throat loudly to get Morgan's attention. He finishes the call, flips his phone shut and turns in my direction.

"Blake, I didn't hear you coming in," he says. I shrug as if to say it doesn't matter, but of course it matters. If he had heard me he wouldn't have spoken so openly. I hand him the paper and point to the information he asked for. I do it rather brusquely, to conceal the fact that I'm feeling at a complete loss of how to handle the situation.

I hate this. Why can't I be easier for people to like?

* * *

Upon our return, I really need to speak to Garcia and sort things out, but since Erin was all over me from the moment I walked in - again - I'm so tired I feel like everything I do will only turn on me. _Tomorrow_, I tell myself. _First thing tomorrow. _

I heave a deep sigh and consider bumping my forehead against the desk. Or even allow myself a quick desk nap before going home to my empty house where there is no food except for - maybe - some bread and peanut butter. I can't recall when I last did some grocery shopping. I suppose I could pick up some Chinese food to go. And more importantly, painkillers to quell the oncoming headache.

"Hey," a soft voice says from my right.

I briefly look up to see Penelope Garcia. Oh, please, not now. My second impression is bound to be even worse than the first.

"Hello."

"Can we start over?"

"Yeah, sure." I sigh. Then, before she has a chance to say anything else, I look up and into her large eyes. And I think, what the hell. At least I can be honest.

"Listen, Penelope, I should not be allowed to make jokes. Every time I try, things get very awkward. I'm sorry. I was trying to be witty, and…" I scoff. "Quite frankly, I'm horrible when it comes to being witty."

"I didn't think Superwoman was horrible at anything."

"Oh _believe me_, I'm very far from a Superwoman. You'll see."

She smiles. She has the warmest, most inviting smile I've seen in a long time. I smile back, relieved. Suddenly I can almost believe this might be alright in the end. Even the pounding headache seems to have backed off a little.

"I don't know about that. You seem pretty super to me."

"Trust me, I have more weaknesses than I have strengths, I just try not to flaunt them," I mutter, more to myself than to her. She laughs out loud, but it's a kind laughter, the sort that makes me want to join in.

"Okay, now, pretend I just came in," she says. I give her a tired smile.

"Alright?"

She extends her right hand and I take it.

"Hello, Superwoman," she says in a warm voice. "I'm Wondergirl. Welcome to the BAU; Brilliantly Amazing Unit."

"Ahh, so that's what it stands for?"

"That's what it stands for," she agrees. "And you, Doctor Agent Alex Blake, look like you could use a hot meal and a ridiculously large glass of wine, and I know just the place to go. Follow me."

"Oh, throw in some Aspirins and I'll follow you anywhere," I reply and grab my purse. When I turn back to her she holds out a bottle of Aspirin.

"I sort of expected that," she says, almost apologetically.

"Uh, wow."

"Hence Wondergirl."

I bite my lip to keep from laughing.

"No arguments here."

We start walking towards the elevators when she asks;

"Do I actually have to call you Doctor?"

"My _students _have to call me Doctor. My _team _calls me by name."

"Good," she exhales, sounding incredibly relieved. "Because this is more than just a work team, it's, well… a family."

It catches me a little off guard how much I like the sound of that.

"As long as I don't get the role of the grumpy aunt," I comment.

"Oh, no. _Strauss _is the grumpy aunt."

I begin to laugh so hard I nearly trip myself. I haven't laughed out loud in a workplace in… twenty years, at least. But I can't help myself; part of it is probably the fact that the almost overwhelming tension is leaving me. She looks a little surprised, but then she begins to laugh as well. And I feel warm inside, all thanks to Garcia for seeing behind the first impression and understand that even a "Superwoman" needs someone to welcome her home.

* * *

**A/N**

I hope you liked reading this as much as I liked writing it. Blake is a fascinating and complex character and I thought she was in dire need of Garcia's gentle kindness. Personally, I want Garcia to be my best friend. :)


End file.
